


Addiction's Price

by EtherealOmega



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Addiction, Cannon Divergent, M/M, Self-Indulgent, VERY Cannon Divergent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealOmega/pseuds/EtherealOmega
Summary: It all began months after Izaya’s departure from Ikebukoro, with the simple assumption that Shizuo had always been as he appeared.Most people would look at the bleached hair and gruff features then draw the conclusion that a youth spent in delinquency was all he could have had. They were wrong. Perhaps if a certain ruby eyed manipulator hadn’t have come around, he would have remained as he was before it all went wrong: a mostly good student finally learning to control his temper just a little bit better.Perhaps if he had never met Orihara Izaya he wouldn’t have been marked as “The Monster of Ikebukoro.” However, it is not the what-ifs Shizuo is left to ponder when he is reminded once more of what other’s see in him. It is merely how much that flea has touched his life and changed him that he needs to look back on.And perhaps... Just maybe, he needs to come to terms with the fact that addiction is not a ball and chain so easily shed as it is garnered. It can morph and twist into the most heinous of desires – like the one which for years has cried out for the broker’s blood – but it is always there lurking, waiting to be remembered.





	Addiction's Price

**Author's Note:**

> Author Warning: This has not been edited, has not been BETA-read, and is the self-indulgent writings of an author prone to having dumb ideas.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this, but I do apologize for how out of character I probably made Shizuo and Akabayashi.   
> If I'm gonna be honest, this all came about because my boss joked about me seeming like the type of guy to "sneak out behind the gym to smoke during high school" and then me laughing about it because I was a straight A student who didn't smoke for a long time... Until things - specifically people - dragged me into some.. not so savory habits. 
> 
> So yeah! I hope that if you read it you enjoy it. I know I'm gonna be adding chapter to this eventually for my own sake. It's a good tension release, haha! (|||￣ω￣)

Shizuo's life had been a spiral for so long that the past few months had seemed more like a dream than a reality. Peace had reigned in Ikebukuro without the ever present pest there to torment the blond; even the Shinjuku ward has been quiet without it's so called demon to bring mayhem to its streets. At first, the ex-tax collector had taken to looking over his shoulder so often that his best friend and coworker had warned him against whiplash, but now only certain things made the tall blond pause in his tracks. A laugh just barely too high to be the cackle that used to send his hackles standing on end, skipping footsteps barely light enough to qualify as something The Flea was capable of, a commotion somewhere with far too much passion to be a mere coincidence yet it always was. Even now, there were lasting traces of the dark haired nuisance's touch everywhere in this city. In truth, Shizuo doubted there could ever be a way to erase the burning touch of the broker from the very paving stones... or his own soul for that matter. 

The last time his dark eyes had fallen upon the thin frame of Izaya Orihara, the man had been bleeding and broken yet somehow still breathing, still standing in defiance against him. Him... the 'monster' Izaya had sworn to wipe from the face of the planet in order to protect his 'precious humans.' The story had been all over the news for far too long afterwards, haunting Shizuo with the fire in burgundy eyes and his own rage alike; he thought he'd never escape it. Perhaps he was right because even weeks after the story had faded into fable and passed from the public's eye, he remembered the manic smirk Izaya had shot his way as everything ended. He didn't know where the smaller male had been taken after that encounter, but he reminded himself once more that he shouldn't - didn't care. 

He'd finally gotten what he'd always wished for after all. Izaya was out of his life for good, and things were finally starting to normalize around him. Fewer and fewer attacks on his person occurred. His rage building to uncontrollable levels was becoming more of an exception instead of a constant rule of his existence. The city was starting to forget about the 'monster' which had once haunted its streets. People kept whispering about "The Monster of Ikebukuro" of course, but fewer and fewer people were remembering the truth of it as time passed on and details were lost. Only those he could call friends remembered that Heiwajima Shizuo had once been irrevocably synonymous with things like terror, and destruction, and absolute mayhem. 

His record may still have been tainted, but without the constant outbursts his likelihood of finding and keeping employment without being attached by the hip to Tom was steadily increasing. In fact, he'd managed to find an outside job which with his best friend's permission he'd taken without a second thought. 

He hummed and smiled looking out across the dimly lit room from behind the bar. There were no bright lights or loud noises here to grate on his senses, and any outbursts he may have were handled with grace rather than the usual discontent present in a workplace when glasses shattered and patrons were shocked by harsh words. In fact, most of the guests here found his ire amusing or noteworthy but far from terrifying. His popularity could also have something to do with his heavyhandedness regarding the booze, but he liked to think there was a bit more to it than that. The people kept mostly to themselves between orders of preferred drinks, but those he did interact with treated him as just another human - not a servant and not a beast. Even the chattier ones were to make sure an actual conversation were possible and didn't stray into the common territory of one sided rants which Shizuo couldn't give a single fuck about. Among the chattier ones, only one had had managed to worm his way into the blond's heart. Slowly but surely it happened, and if anyone asked him how he'd merely shrug it off. After all most people who he grew to consider friends had come to him in a similar manner. 

The only difference here was that no names were exchanged. His own name was obvious from the name-tag available on his half apron, but the other didn't seem keen on sharing that side of himself for whatever reason. Luckily, it was impossible to miss or mistake the redhead that refused to leave him alone. The scar through his eye was second only to the dopey grin usually plastered on his face in terms of recognizably. 

He spoke of things Shizuo couldn't hope to fully comprehend without ten more explanations and another decade of experience, but the stories of the man's youth were some of the most interesting things he'd heard. So he endured the nonsense for the rest of it. Besides, his company could be preferable to complete silence as long as he didn't get too nosy, and the man's knowledge on everyone was an easy way to keep up on acquaintances without having to seek them out. He'd discovered that they were similar to an extent in their youths though his new friend had always been more controlled than himself. It was the attachment and addiction to certain people which tugged at the blond's mind most as a familiar concept, but he quickly swept it away preferring to focus on other things. Like how Shinra and Celty were still happily together despite their many disagreements. They'd just gone on another vacation, and Shizuo was reminded that he'd need to pay his friend a visit while somehow avoiding the crackpot doctor she so adored. Then there were the others like Kadota's ragtag group and the three little pups who always seemed to have their nose in trouble. They're shenanigans brought a grin to his face more often then a scowl though a lot of that was because they had the redhead looking out for them. 

Tonight had been just another quiet night with customers coming and going, cocktail waitresses buzzing about in the back recesses where private rooms were available for the owners' "business associates", and a constant undercurrent of stories from his new companion. However, even peaceful things eventually come to an end, and this night was no different. Most patrons have made their way out the door by closing time unaided, but all save one of the last stragglers were being ushered out the doors by Shizuo's fellow bartender while the blond gathered glasses and remained listening to the redhead's chatter. He had always been allowed to stay by some higher power he possessed that the blond turned a blind eye to. Both of the men at the bar knew that by now the blond was tuning out anything being said, instead letting nearly forgotten tunes rumble through his chest into the air. Soon enough the chatter fell silent, and his companion merely joined into the melody between sips of his last drink. With their shared symphony soothing the work into a blur, the bartender wiped down his bar and made headway through most of his glasses before his rhythm was inevitably ruined. 

He'd felt the warm eye burning into him long before the thoughtful words came so it was no surprise when eventually the deep verbrato of the familiar voice slid across the bar. It held more weight then usual, but it was as welcoming as ever, "I've told you before, Heiwajima-kun, that you remind me of myself, but I'm glad your story ended when and how it did. I'm glad we met how we did and not a moment sooner." There was something lying in weight beneath his words if Shizuo cared enough to dig for it, but whatever may or may not be there was meaningless now. What had happened had happened, and nothing could change that. That didn't stop the blond from quirking an eyebrow at the other's weird behavior nor letting out a snort when he knocked back the last of his Scotch. A tall figure clad in classy white moved gracefully across them empty room behind the redhead, and a small smile graced the scarred man's face at the sound of the familiar and steady rhythm. 

Laying a hefty tip down beside the emptied tumbler and scooping up his cane, the man smoothly rose from his seat and shot a wink towards his new favorite barkeep. "Until next time then." He muttered and followed the same path the thinner man moments before had paved, though he did so with less innate grace. While the cane-wielding man moved with much more grace than was justified after the copious amounts of alcohol he'd ingested over the past hours, Shizuo doubted even that even in his prime he could have matched the ghost of a man's agility and deadly elegance. 

Heiwajima shook his head in disbelief, but returned to his cleaning without too much thought. He expected the rest of his shift to pass even more undisturbed then the beginning, but of course it was on a night like this that life would remind him of the temper he attempted to keep buried. That reminder came in the form of one flirtatious and good at his job barkeep named, Kotetsu. The man oozed likability and brought more liveliness to Shizuo's shift then was strictly appreciated, but was easily ignored until he decided to butt into a topic. "Ya know..." the dark haired man drawled out, his tone far too informal for a workplace, "Come to think of it those comments about you being similar to Akabayashi-san don't seem too far off the mark. You two were probably both the types to have too much temper and not enough brains, ne?" A soft chuckle interrupted his speech and the man was met by Shizuo's cold glare. It didn't stop him from going on however, "Probably too many fights for you to keep track of, and grades slowly slipping into the gutter without a means of being saved. Would explain why someone like you wound up here full-time instead of just using it as a springboard, mm." 

The quiet crackling of glass would have alerted less fool hearty people to the imminent danger building up from their words, but the other merely kept talking this time gesturing to the cigarette tucked behind his ear in preparation for shift's end. "Let me guess, you even went so far as to slip out behind the gym or up to the roof to sneak in a quiet smoke break, huh? Was it just you or some other delinquents to?" The laugh he had meant to be good natured was cut short by the loud shattering of glass in his coworker's palm. The speaker's eyes widened at the sight of his usually quiet coworker shaking with anger. Those usually indifferent brown eyes now looked like open pits ready to swallow his whole without mercy. He slowly stepped back as if the few inches that would muster could save him. A slow and deliberate growl rumbled in Shizuo's chest, and his coworker flinched before scurrying off seemingly having found his inbuilt survival instincts. 

The closing tasks furthest away from the bar were quickly taken care as Shizuo grated his teeth and struggled to unclench his jaw. His natural instinct was to think of Kasuka to keep the roar in his ears at bay, but it was not his little brother's face that haunted his gaze. Thoughts of senior high school and flashes of black on red flooded his vision until he slammed his eyes shut, bowing his head. His heart hammered against his ears and his chest heaved with the effort to breath in air now tainted by memories. Nicotine and cyanide stifled his breath though he knew no smoke nor poison was present in this air. His shoulders tensed more and more until he balled his hands against the glass covered counter. The jagged pieces bit into his skin grounding him to the present, and he took a air purified of the past's perfume. The tension in his frame eased slightly and the man forced his fingers to uncurl. The cold of the surface beneath his palms was soothing and he traced the smooth grain with his fingertips. Each dip and swirl guided his breathing so low from it's labored refrain. The air he shakily breathed in was tinged only with alcohol and he clung to that fact as his ear attuned themselves to the subtle scraping of chair legs against tile floors. 

The mundane surroundings and lack of interference by the pester-some coworker allowed him to calm down until his eyes naturally fluttered open. He had a job to finish, then he could finish releasing the stress. So he swept up the broken glass and sought out the bandages in the back room. The cuts were shallow enough that Heiwajima would normally pay them no mind, but he'd learned early on that bleeding in any capacity severely hampered your ability to clean anything at all. So it was with bright white bandages standing out against his naturally sunkissed skin that he returned to his station and wiped down the counter one more time. 

The rest of the shift passed without incident. A single glare at the nosy brunette would send him skittering away to something more in need of his attentions then the man he was working with, and after a half hour or so of mind-numbing tasks and quiet humming, Shizuo stepped out behind the building and into the fresh early morning air. Or... At least as fresh as Tokyo air ever could be. 

However, he immediately ruined the effect by lighting the cancerstick which had someone survived his tantrum tucked safely behind his ear. His head fell back against the wall as he breathed in the closest scent to his addiction as he could. Blond bangs tickled his eyes just as the wisps of smoke did his nose. His eyebrows drew together and an irate sigh stumbled over his lips in an unfamiliar manner as he thought back to his coworker's comments. The worst part about them had been how he couldn't have been more right - at least not by the time the end of senior high school came around. Then again, if anyone saw both the boy he was before Raijin and the man before them now, side by side, almost none would believe them to be the same person. Slowly he brought the cigarette to his lips and breathed in to chase away the thoughts. 

Even after nearly a decade of addiction, the shock of first inhale never ceased to steal the air from his lungs, but it still never tasted quite right.. It was too herbal without the spicy and sickening bitterness he always longed for. He could almost hear the mocking laugh that had chased him ever since his last three years of school. Slowly he released it from his lungs and cracked his eyes open to see it spiral out into the air only to fade away. Such an ephemeral existence just as their strange peace had been all those years ago. When let yourself become so addicted to something meant to live only for a few moments that you are willing to do anything to keep it even a moment longer then you should, you have truly lost yourself. 

Shizuo snorted at his own thoughts, he rarely waxed poetic over anything and this certainly wasn't worth it. He merely brought his addiction to his lips once more and pondered finally trying to leave it behind. It had always been hard for him to break habits. Some said it was because his skull was too thick, others because he grew too attached to the simple pleasure of life, but he knew that all his addictions led back to a single Flea. And that Flea was the reason he found it so hard to quit. As long as he kept even one of these strings, no matter their color, connecting them their parting wasn't permanent. As long as one string remained even his goodbye - no matter how harsh he had been - could never be permanent. 

Perhaps that was the whole pain of addiction, that even after ten years, too many murder attempts to count, and scars of all possible varieties swapped between them he could still be addicted to the one thing he wished he wasn't. In the end, the one thing he hated most was what he had come to be unable to live without. Sighing, he put the smoke out on the sole of shoe and started his long walk towards home. It was time to try and quit for good, Izaya was finally gone after all.


End file.
